<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Patrick Brewer vs the Frozen Canadian Wasteland by houdini74</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29288196">Patrick Brewer vs the Frozen Canadian Wasteland</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/houdini74/pseuds/houdini74'>houdini74</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>As Canadian as possible, under the circumstances [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Schitt's Creek</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canada, Alternate Universe - Winter, Canadian stereotypes, Hand Jobs, M/M, Snow and Ice, backroom hookups, dog sleds</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 05:41:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,044</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29288196</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/houdini74/pseuds/houdini74</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>During the long, cold Canadian winters, Patrick runs a dog sled rideshare service. Thankfully, today’s run includes a stop to see his favourite customer.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Patrick Brewer/David Rose</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>As Canadian as possible, under the circumstances [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2145771</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>181</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Patrick Brewer vs the Frozen Canadian Wasteland</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is the second in my Canadiana fics. As the biased author, I would love it if you read the entire series, but these stories are complete as stand-alones and it’s not necessary. </p><p>I want to insist that Canada is not actually a frozen wasteland but as I write this it’s snowing and it’s currently -25C. There are no dog sleds in sight, however!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Patrick pulls his dog sled up to the general store and gives a command to his dogs. As familiar as they are with this stop on his route, they immediately lie down and curl up together, conserving their body heat as the wind sifts the snow over them. The flakes are coming down pretty hard now and the storm is only expected to worsen by nightfall. Canadian winters aren’t for the faint of heart, but just like most of his friends and neighbors, he’s been running dogs since he was a boy. Tugging off his fur-lined mitts, he pushes open the heavy oak and glass door, letting the blast of heat soak into his chilled face. </p><p>He pulls back the hood of his parka, and the man behind the counter looks at him and winces. “Can you knock the snow off your boots, please? I just mopped the floor for the third time this morning. I’d ask you to take them off but sock feet in a public place is obviously incorrect.”</p><p>“Obviously.” With a grin, Patrick stamps his feet, kicking off as much snow as possible. ”Are you ready to go? ”</p><p>Rose Apothecary is probably his favourite stop and he relishes the days when its owner needs a delivery or taxi service. He’s dramatic and impatient but he meets Patrick’s teasing with an arched eyebrow and a quirked lip that never fails to set off the butterflies in Patrick’s stomach.</p><p>A cautious look creeps across the other man’s face. “Where am I going? Is this a kidnapping?”</p><p>“No, it’s not a kidnapping.” God, he’s beautiful when he’s flustered. Patrick can’t get enough every time he stops here. “I thought you said you needed a ride to Elmdale.”</p><p>“Yes, like two days ago.” The other man tips his head back, exposing his neck. Patrick wants to bite it. But this is a place of business. He grips the edge of the counter, his knuckles white and chapped against the scarred wood. “Did you bring the dogs?”</p><p>“Of course.” The other man tolerates his dogs at best, viewing them as a necessary evil in the winter when the snow is too deep and impassable for vehicles.</p><p>With a low groan that settles deep in Patrick’s gut, the man steps out from behind the counter. He walks his fingers up Patrick’s parka-clad arm. “I’m not in a hurry. Why don’t you take off that ugly little snowsuit and I can warm you up in the back room before we go?”</p><p>“I shouldn’t.” The dogs are waiting and a glance out the window tells him it’s snowing harder. If they’re going to make it to Elmdale and back, they’ll need to leave within the hour. Preferably sooner.</p><p>“It won’t take long and I promise I’ll make it worth your while.” He gives a full-body shimmy, equal parts sexy and ridiculous.</p><p>Powerless to resist, Patrick lets the other man lead him into the back room. “This is the last time.” The breathiness of his voice gives him away. “We can’t— This is a business— Anyone could walk in.”</p><p>“I know you like the thrill.” A confident hand reaches for the zipper of his parka, drawing it down with a harsh zzzipppt. As soon as the edges of the coat come free, David’s long, lean body inserts itself into the cocoon of warmth captured by the edges of the oversized winter coat. </p><p>As soon as David touches him Patrick starts to sweat, the heat of the building and the weight of the down parka are too much when combined with the first brush of David’s lips. The kiss burns and he chases it, he can’t get enough. He can never get enough. David’s left hand is in control on the back of his neck as his right finds Patrick’s hip, pushing him back. He shuffles awkwardly, unwilling to break the contact between his body and David’s, unsatiated need gluing them together from hip to shoulder. </p><p>“David.” It’s halfway between a growl and a whine, knocked out of him as David gives him a gentle nudge backwards onto the sofa, pushing the parka from his shoulders as he straddles Patrick’s thighs, his kisses becoming sloppier and more urgent as he grinds his hips into Patrick’s. A bead of sweat tickles between Patrick’s shoulder blades, he arches towards David, fingers grasping at David’s waist with what feels like months of pent up desperation.</p><p>Patrick bucks up to meet him, dragging their clothed cocks together, gasping as he finds the friction he’s seeking. “I swear, this is the last time we do this here.” He said that last week and the week before. Fucking David Rose on the back couch of his store is a habit he hasn’t been able to break. Does David only ask for a ride because he knows they’ll end up here? The thought floats away with the rasp of his teeth against David’s stubble.</p><p>David nips at his ear, the press of his mouth bringing Patrick’s hips off the couch again. “Liar.”</p><p>His ability to respond to David’s accusation is gone, lost in the pressure of his body against Patrick’s. “More, god, I need more, I need you to fucking touch me. Now, David.”</p><p>“Bossy, you’re always so bossy.” David smiles into Patrick’s mouth, fumbling with his zipper, undoing Patrick’s jeans and then his own, shoving them both just far enough out of the way before producing a bottle of lube from between the cushions.</p><p>David’s big hand almost completely surrounds them both and Patrick brings his own down to join him, the two of them moving together with the rhythm of Patrick’s hips until the sensation overwhelms him and with a guttural shout he comes into their joined hands, David following soon after.</p><p>David finds a handful of tissues and cleans them up before falling sideways onto the couch and pulling Patrick down after him, wrapping an arm tightly around his stomach and nuzzling softly at his ear. “I don’t think we’re gonna make it to Elmdale today.”</p><p>Patrick gives a low laugh, drowsiness lapping at the edges of his consciousness. “Maybe we can stop and get pizza on the way home? I don’t feel like cooking.”</p><p>David snuggles closer. “Of course, honey, anything you like.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Just in case anyone was worried about Patrick leaving his dogs outside in the snow, sled dogs are accustomed to curling up in the snow for short periods. They have very warm coats and the snow will help keep them warm.</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>